Page 51 of The Fake Affair

That gets my attention. “Gone where?”

“Home. Cedar Grove.” She surveys the broken glass and the whiskey-stained walls. “Though I see you’re handling things really well here.”

“Audrey—”

“No.” She cuts me off. “You don’t get to‘Audrey’me. Not when my best friend is on a train right now, thinking she meant nothing to you. Not when she’s talking about—” She stops abruptly.

“About what?”

“About other options.”

The room spins, and it’s not from the whiskey. “She wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t she? You disappeared for three days, Logan. Left her alone, terrified. If she goes ahead and makes a decision without you, then she’s well within her right to do so.”

“I needed time to?—”

“To become Dad. Of course.”

“I’m nothing like him.”

“No?” She gestures at the broken bottles. “From everything around us right now, you seem to be making a pretty good impression.”

“I’m trying to protect her!”

“From what?!”

“From losing her—from her dying!” The words rip out of me. “From watching her die while bringing my child into the world, the way Mum?—”

“Stop it.” Audrey’s voice cracks. “Just stop. Mum died twenty-eight years ago. It’s not going to happen again.”

“You don’t understand?—”

“I don’t understand?” She laughs bitterly. “I’m pregnant too, remember? And yeah, I’m terrified. But you know what scares me more than dying? Living with regret. Letting fear steal my chance at happiness.”

I sink onto the couch, head in my hands. “Every time I close my eyes, I see that hospital corridor. I can’t... I can’t do that to a child.”

“Then don’t.” She sits beside me. “Be better than he was. The way you were better for me.”

“That was different.”

“Was it? You were just a kid, Logan. A kid who stepped up when everything fell apart.”

“And look how well that turned out.” I gesture at the mess around us.

“Yeah, look.” Her voice softens. “Look at the empire you built. Countless people you’ve given a second chance at life through your charities. Look at the sister you raised. The woman who loves you.”

“Bella deserves better.”

“Then be better,” she repeats. She grabs my hand. “Remember when I was five and had that nightmare about Mum? What did you tell me?”

“That being scared doesn’t make the monsters real.”

“Exactly. And what’s happening now? You’re letting your fears create monsters that don’t exist.”

I stand, feeling the need to move. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is. You’re just making it complicated because you’re terrified of being happy.” She follows me to the window. “You know what’s ironic? You’ve spent your whole life trying not to be Dad, but right now, you’re exactly like him—letting fear rob you of the people who love you.”

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